


from somewhere within

by mywordsflyup



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Camping, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, M/M, Protectiveness, Rimming, Warden Carver Hawke, Warden Felix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-18
Updated: 2016-02-18
Packaged: 2018-05-21 13:19:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6053038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mywordsflyup/pseuds/mywordsflyup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Felix Alexius has never been much of a mage. Carver still thinks he's the best thing under the sun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	from somewhere within

**Author's Note:**

> _Carver is one of the HoF's Warden at Vigil's Keep. Felix gets saved from the Taint by going through the Joining sometime after In Hushed Whispers. The Warden-Commander tells Carver to take Felix under his wing. In the beginning, he hates it. Later, not so much._
> 
> Inspired by countless hours of headcanons with [Byacolate](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Byacolate/).
> 
> There's a brief discussion of past trauma and child abuse. Nothing graphic or detailed but I still wanted to mention it.

Carver watches Felix move around the camp, walking in circles around their tent and the fireplace - stopping every few steps to pull out the familiar stones from his pocket and place them on the ground. It’s a nightly ritual, one that Carver has watched many times before. He has never outright asked him - some part of him a little afraid that he might be going against some form of mage etiquette. But then again, Felix has never been shy about his limitations when it comes to spellcasting. 

 

“It’s not my forte,” he said on the first night when Carver asked him to put up protective wards. “I have my own ways.” 

 

Stones and bone fragments with runes carved into them. Sigils stitched into scarves and banners. He even drew one on the side of Carver’s tent on that first night. It’s still there - even though now it’s  _ their _ tent - a softly glowing constant during the night. 

 

Felix holds up one of his rocks against the moon, inspecting it with care before pocketing it and placing another on the ground in its stead. When he comes to sit next to Carver by the fire, he smiles. Even in the low soft light he looks tired, deep shadows under his eyes and the darker shadow of the stubble on his cheeks and chin. But it’s the good kind of tired - the one that comes from a long day’s march. Not the one that speaks of death creeping through his veins, hollowing him out from the inside. 

 

Carver still pulls him close and pulls a part of his blanket over his shoulders. “It’s getting colder,” he mumbles when Felix gives him a curious look. 

 

Felix presses a small kiss on the underside of his jaw and squeezes his hand for a moment before pulling the small rock out of his pocket. Carver recognizes the protective rune Felix carved into it. 

 

“I need to refresh the enchantment. We’ve been using it for too long,” Felix explains. 

 

Carver likes watching him, the way he furrows his brow and closes his eyes in concentration as he slowly lets his magic seep into the stone. It’s nothing like watching any of the mages in his family. Or the other Warden mages. It always seemed so simple for them. Flashy even, at times - with those little fancy flourishes and sparkles. It annoyed him sometimes, the way they were showing of. He never considered that there might be mages who just weren’t able to do that. 

 

“There,” Felix says and puts the newly-powered rock back into his pocket. Carver doesn’t miss the way his fingers tremble a bit. “Good as new.” There is a light gleam of sweat on his forehead despite the chilly night air. When Felix notices the concern on Carver’s face, he smiles and gently nudges him with his elbow. “It’s been a long day. No need to look so worried.” 

 

Carver looks into the fire and curses his open face. He couldn’t hide an emotion to save his life. Felix settles against his side, a warm and comforting weight, and puts his head on his shoulder. It’s easier like this, when he doesn’t have to look him in the eye and worry about his own face betraying him. 

 

“Does it bother you sometimes?” 

 

Felix doesn’t move, doesn’t even stiffen. “What does?” 

 

“That you’re not…” How to say this without offending him? “That casting tires you out so quickly.” 

 

He feels Felix’s chuckle more than he hears it. “You mean that I’m not a powerful mage who rains down fire on his enemies and strikes them down with lightning?"

 

Carver makes a noncommittal sound. Somehow Felix laughing it off only makes him more tense. “Or that.” He swallows, keeping his eyes trained on the fire in front of him. “Before I met you, I’ve never seen anyone use protective runes to shield a whole camp. 

 

Felix tenses. “Do you not feel safe?” 

 

“Wait, what?” Carver straightens up and immediately regrets it when Felix pulls back, startled. “No, that’s not -” 

 

Felix looks at him, a little frown in between his eyebrows. “I can add more wards if you don’t think it’s enough.” 

 

“Maker’s breath.” Carver cover his eyes with his hand for a moment, mortification like a hot coal in his stomach. “That’s not what I meant!” 

 

There is a little gap between them, a distance that feels so much wider to Carver. Felix pulls up his knees and folds his arms around them. At some point the blanket must have slipped off his shoulders. 

 

“That’s not what I meant,” Carver repeats. He’s used to putting his foot in his mouth. To offending people whenever he does as much as speak a single word. It’s nothing new for him. But with Felix… “I’m sorry. I’m an ass.” 

 

“No, you’re not.” Felix’s voice has gone quiet in a way that Carver doesn’t like at all. “It’s only natural that you would wonder. Why they made me go through the Joining at all. I’m not… strong.”

 

“Bullshit.” It’s out before he knows it - a harsh word cutting through the silence. Felix looks up, surprise plain of his face. “You’re one of the strongest people I know.” 

 

It’s not a lie, not even just a platitude. Carver remembers the sick shell of a man brought to him at Vigil’s Keep. His body still marked from the Blight. So thin that he could have counted his ribs and every vertebra of his spine if he wanted to. And still he kept fighting. With bright eyes and a smile even when the pain got so bad he could hardly walk. Felix’s strength was one of the first things he noticed.

 

Felix smiles, just a little bit. “But I’m not the kind of mage they’d normally let into the Order.” 

 

Carefully, Carver takes Felix’s hand and laces his fingers with his. “You mean the fire-raining kind?” 

 

Felix laughs. “Yes. Those.” He squeezes Carver’s hand. “I don’t mind it. I have found ways to work with what the Maker gave me. But I wouldn’t want you to… worry that I couldn’t hold my own.” 

 

“Are you kidding?” Carver turns a bit so he can properly look Felix in the eye. “You’re amazing! I’ve never seen anyone fight like you do. Those little bombs that you make? I have a friend in Kirkwall who would kill for that recipe. And I never understood why mages put a blade on the end of their staff. But you do that fancy twirling thing -” 

 

“That’s an old Tevene fighting style,” Felix says, only poorly hiding the blush creeping up his cheeks. “An ancient tradition.” 

 

“Well, I wouldn’t know anything about that,” Carver says. “I just know I saw you behead a hurlock with it more than once.” 

 

Felix ducks his head but not before Carver can spot his smile. “Thank you.” He finally leans back against him and Carver takes the opportunity to tug the blanket back in place. 

 

“And I feel very safe,” he says after a moment of silence. “Your wards have never failed. I could tell you stories about some of the other Warden mages…”

 

“Really?” Felix laughs.

 

“Oh yes,” Carver says gravely. “I’m not naming names, of course.” 

 

“Of course.” 

 

“Let’s just say, some of them let themselves get distracted and all their fancy spellwork just falls right apart.” 

 

He feels Felix’s breath warm on this neck, little puffs of laughter, and then the light brush of his lips against his skin. “Distracted, mhm?” 

 

Heat coils at the end of Carver’s spine. “It’s very easy. Or so I hear.” 

 

“I bet.” Felix lifts a hand to tip Carver’s chin towards him. “Thank the Maker that’s not a danger for us.” He presses his lips against Carvers - claims them and sighs in a way that make Carver’s toes curl in his boots. When he reaches up to cup the side of Felix’s face he lets his thumb run over the rough stubble he finds on his cheek. 

 

Felix pulls back first, but gently taps his forehead against Carver’s. “Care to distract me further? In our tent perhaps?” His smile grows teeth, just a sliver of white in the semi-darkness, and the sight shoots straight through Carver. 

 

There is something so familiar about the way they undress each other. How they find the clasps and buckles of their armor, and later, all the spots that make them moan and sigh and melt. Carver doesn’t think he'll ever get used to the sight of Felix sprawled on the bedroll in front of him, his dark skin ruddy and his eyes bright even in the low light. He’s so gorgeous it makes his mouth go dry and his palms sweaty, even after all these months. 

 

“Amatus,” Felix murmurs against his lips as he pulls him close. He says that sometimes and Carver doesn’t have the heart yet to ask him what it means. He thinks he can guess by the way Felix smiles at him and they how his voice goes soft. 

 

Carver worries the skin of Felix’s neck with lips and teeth until he writhes beneath him. When he sucks a mark just above his collarbone, Felix’s hips buck up against nothing. 

 

“Carver,” Felix pleads, his voice breathless. “Carver, please.” 

 

“Tell me what you need,” Carver runs his fingers up and down Felix’s sides, watching how the dull pressure of his nails makes him shiver.

 

“Touch me.” Felix digs his nails into Carver’s bicep. “I need you to tou-  _ ah _ .” He bucks up again but this time into Carver’s hand and Carver swallows his sigh with a kiss. 

 

He runs his fingers up his shaft and over the head, already slick and dripping onto his stomach. Felix keens at the touch, his back arching off the bedroll. 

 

“Fucking perfect,” Carver says, kissing his way back down Felix’s neck and chest. He gently nips at one of his nipples until Felix hisses. “So fucking perfect.” He can hear Felix’s breath hitch when he realizes that he’s moving down with purpose and willingly lets him spread his legs far enough to settle between them. When his mouth replaces his hand on Felix’s cock, he needs to hold on to his thighs to keep him still.

 

Carver licks a broad stripe from the bottom to the top and the moan that escapes Felix’s lips is positively filthy. There is a curse as well - at least Carver thinks it’s one. Felix has a habit of falling back on his mother tongue when Carver takes him to bed. 

 

“What’s that?” Carver asks, aware of the way his breath ghosts over the head of Felix’s cock. 

 

“Carver, please!” The muscles in Felix’s thighs go taut but Carver holds him down. “Don’t tease!” He weaves his fingers into Carver’s hair and tugs. The dull pain in his scalp isn’t exactly unpleasant - quite the opposite, really. But Carver is not a cruel man by nature. He places a tiny kiss on the head, reveling in Felix’s sigh before swallowing him down. 

 

The way Felix moans his name shoots straight to his dick and can’t help but rut against the bedroll as he works Felix’s cock. He loves every part of it. The taste of him and the familiar weight on his tongue. They way Felix grips his hair and how he can hardly keep himself from bucking up. How he keens and gasps and shudders just before he’s about to come. 

 

Carver waits for the telltale signs, the sharp intake of breath, and then pulls back, his lips leaving Felix’s cock with a little pop. 

 

“No!” Felix jerks underneath him, desperately trying to follow his mouth. “Venhedis!” 

 

Carver almost laughs at how offended Felix looks. He’s a panting mess, his chest heaving, but he still manages to scowl at Carver. “I may not be able to rain fire down on you, Carver Hawke, but -” 

 

“Shh, love.” Carver presses a kiss on his hipbone. “Wouldn’t want this to be over too soon.” He gently taps his thigh. “Turn over for me, would you?” 

 

Felix stares at him for a moment but when Carver’s words finally reach him, he’s so quick to move that he almost kicks Carver in the process. Felix’s back is just as enticing to Carver as the rest of him. Littered with scars and smalls moles and still so, so smooth when he runs his hands over it. He lets his fingers draw circles on his shoulder blades before moving down, gently scraping his nails over his sensitive sides, just enough to make him squirm. When he reaches Felix’s hips, he tightens his grip and pulls him up on his knees. 

 

Felix gasps and then muffles his moan in the crook of his arm. Carver knows exactly how much he likes it when Carver uses his strength. When he picks him up or moves and positions him just as he wants him. 

 

Carves presses a kiss on the small of his back and palms his ass with both hands, spreads him just enough to move down, a trail of kisses that has the muscles in Felix’s back go taut. When Carver finally presses his tongue against Felix’s hole, he cries out, his legs threatening to give. Carver holds him fast as he laps at him with his tongue, drawing circles around him before pushing in just a little bit. Felix is gasping and writhing in his grips, beyond words of any language.

 

Carver thinks he can make out his name from time to time. Pleading sometimes, definitely desperate by the time he finally reaches for the oil and starts opening him up, one slick finger at first, then two. Every twist and crook makes Felix groan into the crook of his arm. Carver is fairly certain that he would come in an instant if he were to reach around and take him in hand. So he keeps his free hand on Felix’s hip instead and leans forward to press a kiss between his shoulder blades. 

 

“You ready for me, love?” 

 

Felix turns his head to look at him. His bottom lip is red and swollen from where he has worried it with his teeth and his eyes are impossibly dark. “I’ve been for ages,” he finally manages to say, his voice hoarse. “Please, amatus.” 

 

Carver gives his hip a little squeeze before coating his own cock with oil. He pushes into Felix slowly, just the head at first, and then rocks into him with shallow thrusts. Felix moans and pushes back against him, too impatient for Carver’s caution. 

 

“More,” he demands and rocks back. “Please.”

 

“Since you asked so nicely.” He kisses Felix’s neck one last time before straightening up and holding on to his hips. The pace he sets is rough, filling the night with the sound of skin on skin and Felix’s shouts every time he brushes against that sensitive spot inside of him. Tevene spills from his lips as Carver fucks into him until even that’s too much and he’s reduced to incoherent noises. 

 

Carver doesn’t even get the chance to touch him before Felix tenses around him and comes with a shout he doesn’t bother to muffle. Carver fucks him through it with long deep strokes that pull him over the edge not long after. His fingers digs into Felix’s hips as he spends himself inside of him, every muscle in his body taut. 

 

Felix whines at the loss of him when Carver pulls out of him but lets himself be gently turned on his back. He watches Carver from underneath heavy eyelids as he cleans up both of them. His body is still soft and pliant when Carver finally joins him on the bedroll and pulls the blanket over them. Carver fits perfectly against him, his chest pressed against his back and his arm slung around him. Like two pieces of a puzzle, Carver thinks as he presses his lips against the back of Felix’s head and inhales his scent. He enjoys fucking Felix very much - more so than he has enjoyed sex with anyone - but he has to admit that perhaps he likes this even more. The calm that follows. Just holding Felix close to him, warm and familiar and right. 

 

He almost thinks that Felix has fallen asleep but there’s something off about his breathing. About the way he shifts in his arms. 

 

“You alright?” he asks. 

 

“Yes,” Felix says and then hesitates. “Actually, no.” 

 

Carver feels him tensing, the sleepy languish gone from his body. “What is it?” He tries not to sound too alarmed but some part of him wishes Felix would turn around so he can look him in the face. “Have I done something?” 

 

“No,” Felix says quickly. “Maker, no. It’s nothing about you.” Something in his voice tells Carver that perhaps this is the only way he can say it. Whispered into the darkness, without having to look at him. He knows there are some things you can’t say in the light of day. He waits for Felix to speak again, listening to his breathing and feeling his heartbeat in his chest. 

 

“I started showing signs of magic very early,” he finally says, his voice calm but quiet, “but it was very obvious from the beginning that I would never be much of a mage.” He takes a shaky breath. “It was… unexpected. Magic runs strong in both sides of my family. I should’ve been the pride of both houses. A worthy heir to the Alexius name. Instead… I was just me.”

 

Carver can’t stop himself. “But your parents…”

 

“They loved me either way. If they were disappointed by my lack of magical talent in any way, they never let me know it. My grandfather on the other hand…” Felix sighs. “He hated me. Hated the way I made him look in front of the other Magisters. He feared for his legacy so he came to the only solution that made sense to him. He needed to get rid of me.”

 

It’s like a bucket of ice water that is emptied over him. Carver flinches, horror slowly creeping up his spine. “ _ What _ _?_ ” 

 

“He tried to have me killed,” Felix says, the horrifying truth he can only speak under the cover of darkness. 

 

Carver feels his mind spinning as he tries to grapple with the thoughts running through his head. “But you were just a child! You were his  _ grandson _ !”

 

“Perhaps that’s why he didn’t do it himself. Or perhaps I just wasn’t worth his time.” Felix shudders and Carver can’t hold him close enough. “I was six. I think my parents believed I was too young to remember but… I do. I remember it all.” 

 

Carver swallows against the lump in his throat. “How did you…”

 

“My mother. She stopped the assassin just in time. He was ordered to drown me, like a dog. She got that much out of him before she let him burn. That and my grandfather’s name. He was dead not a week later. I think everyone knew my mother was responsible.” 

 

Silence falls between them. Carver is utterly lost for words, fury burning in his stomach. It makes him sick. “I don’t know what to say.” 

 

Felix presses closer against him, pulling Carver’s arm around him a little bit tighter. “You don’t have to say anything. I just…” He takes a breath. “I’ve never told that to anyone.” 

 

“I am so sorry,” Carver says. He feels helpless, with this hatred for a man who’s long dead. He wishes he could reach through time and space itself to shield Felix from danger. From this terrible betrayal. He grits his teeth so hard it hurts. 

 

Felix finally turns around to face him. “I didn’t mean to upset you,” he says and cups the side of Carver’s face with one hand, his thumb brushing gently over his cheek. 

 

“No,” Carver says and turns his head to press a kiss on the inside of Felix’s wrist. “You can tell me anything. It’s just… the thought of anyone hurting you like that. I can’t stand it.”

 

Felix’s smile is a tired thing but he leans in to kiss Carver, just a gentle brush of his lips. “I’m safe now,” he says and tucks himself under Carver’s chin, curled up against his chest. “I’m alive and safe and here with you.” 

 

Carver guesses he says it as much for Carver’s benefit as for his own. The only truth that matters now. He pulls Felix close and listens to his breathing until he’s fallen asleep in his arms. He lies awake until dawn creeps in, staring up at the faint glow of the sigil Felix painted on the wall of their tent. He knows what it means. 

 

_ Protection.  _

 

He feels Felix’s heartbeat and watches the flutter of his eyelashes, the soft curve of his mouth. It has to be enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from Seafret's "Oceans".
> 
> You can also follow my [tumblr](http://damnable-rogue.tumblr.com) if you're interested.


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